And the Bells Were Ringing Out
by Crowded Angels
Summary: Collection of scenes with the main theme of Christmas. Any genre, most likely Mac&Stella but possible/probable appearances by the others over time.
1. Chapter 1

I am a Christmas _fiend_. Seriously. I am known worldwide for my Christmas spirit. So, in that light, welcome to a collection of random Christmas-themed NY scenes. Any pairing, any genre, all Christmassy. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>She may have been physically in the break room, sat back on a couch with her feet up on the table, but mentally she couldn't have been further away. And this only served to change Mac's good mood to that of pure mischief.<p>

He dug into his pocket, the small packet of marshmallows crinkling under his touch. He'd saved them for her after his hot chocolate earlier, knowing they'd bring a smile to her face whilst tackling her particularly confounding case.

He stepped up behind her as quietly as he could, to where her hair fanned across the cushions and pulled out a marshmallow.

High above her head, he lined up his shot, a smirk already creeping across his features.

He edged left...then right just a bit... gauging the trajectory. Satisfied with his alignment, he let the candy drop into the mug nestled between her hands.

She jumped.

_Oh _did she jump.

She practically threw the mug onto the table and leapt to her feet, her head spinning to the ceiling as an involuntary noise left her throat.

When she finally saw him, with his full-wattage grin plastered across his lips, he finally had proof that looks couldn't kill because he would be oh-so dead right now if they could.

"_Bastard_," she muttered, fighting a smile at his self-satisfied smirk. "You _know _I have a phobia of things in my drink after that eye!"

He dodged out of the way of swinging fist.

"I believe the appropriate terminology for right now would be 'Mwah-haha'."


	2. Chapter 2

Bit of explaining re: chapter one. I came to realise whilst doing a morning-after-posting-reread that it doesn't actually mention Christmas. I think having written this one before it, and listening to my Christmas playlist for the last two weeks solid, I kinda missed that little detail... lol

Anyhoo, bit more on the angsty side for this one. Thanks for reading/reviewing :)x

* * *

><p>He didn't know how she was standing it.<p>

He had his _thick _winter jacket fastened up tight, his gloves and his scarf on and a hat ready to go in his pocket. And he was still shuddering in the sub-zero night temperatures. Even her coat in his hands wasn't warming him much.

She only had the dress she wore to court with her blazer jacket around her shoulders. She must have been near hypothermia, especially as the frozen breeze tousled her curls.

He stepped forward, the crunch of the gravel underfoot unheard as she stared out to the city's rooftops.

Maybe that was when it hit him. She _always _knew when he was near, had some kind of internal lo-jack on him but after today...after everything...

He stepped behind her and wrapped her coat around her shoulders. She jumped under his touch, and he smiled lightly as her head spun to him. She chewed on her lip and looked away, threading her arms through the sleeves.

She zipped it up and folded her arms across her chest, swiping at an errant tear in the movement.

He rubbed his hands on her arms, but she leant back against him, wanting the comfort more than the warmth.

"We'll get him, Stella," he whispered, enveloping her in his arms. "I promise you that."

She took a deep breath. She really wanted to believe that.

They stood there with her hair tickling at his face in the breeze, their exposed skin stinging, in comfort more than warmth, as a bell tolled midnight in the distance.

"It's Christmas," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears again.

He tightened his embrace around her. "Merry Christmas, Stel."


	3. Chapter 3

He had that far off look in his eyes. The one that usually meant he was busy tackling the biggest problems of the world and not getting many satisfying answers.

He was sat on one of the islands in the breakroom, a half eaten muffin before him and long cold coffee in his hands.

Something was wrong.

Softly closing the door behind her, she sat in the chair opposite and broke him from his reverie. His eyes no longer staring at the stuffed Rudolph in the box for the kids at the Women's Shelter.

"_Pou eisai esi vre file? Skeftesei kat kai ksero pou thelis na me to pis."_

He blinked. "I know what that means and nothing's wrong."

She smirked at his handling of her Greek. "C'mon Mac, you can't fool me. What's up?"

He looked at her, gauging her reactions. "You really want to know?"

She leant in, lowering her voice for more privacy in the empty room. "Of course."

"I was thinking... I was thinking about why Rudolph's nose is red."

She followed his gesture to the stuffed toy behind her.

"I've decided there must be another layer between the dermis and epidermis of his nose. A sort of evolutionary mutation, containing luciferin – the light-producing enzyme – and luciferase to act as a catalyst. Then there must be a red phosphorescent layer to make it glow red and absorb the green light of the atmosphere. I'm stumped on how it glows bright enough to guide a sleigh in bad weather, though. Unless there's a further reaction to oxygen to make it so bright? Oh, or maybe adrenaline from the exertion?"

She sat back and looked at him. "The exertion of dragging _Santa Claus_ over the world you mean? With enough toys for every child on the planet? And pulling twelve of his friends along? _That_ exertion?"

"Yeah."

"...Have you started early on that Scotch the Commissioner gave you?"

"No."

"You feeling alright?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Why? You're scientifically explaining a Christmas myth! One that is usually explained with 'Because'!"

He pushed the muffin over the table to her and grinned, scooping up his cup and dumping the contents down the drain. "Think about it. It makes sense."

"That's what worries me!"

"So you agree it makes sense?" He smiled, leaning against the chair he'd just vacated.

"Yes. Congratulations," she said with a coquettishly, cupping the muffin to take to her office. "I'll get on the blower with the Daily Planet, you call the Ministry of Magic."

"You're mocking me..." he smirked, watching as she walked past him and out of the breakroom.


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter is brought to you by the letter 'F'. For Fluff. ;) x

* * *

><p>Mac Taylor had a wry smile. The kind where he was laughing at the absurdity of the world. The kind where he'd surpassed the anger, annoyance and aggravation and gone straight to hilarity.<p>

Stella liked this smile, it meant she could let her mischievous side reign for a while with no repercussions. So catching him placing the phone back on the handset, tapping his fingers on the desk and settling back in the chair with the wry smile was too tempting to not interrupt. "Everything okay?" she asked, pushing the glass door open.

He looked over, the smile growing into a smirk. "You know how Sinclair has halved the funding for the training programme? And said we can't get the money for that update for EDNA?"

She sat down opposite him, folding her coat onto her knee and dropping her bag to the floor. "...yes..."

"He just called. Christmas is cancelled."

"Excuse me?"

"The budget won't cover the cost of the decorators, so Christmas is cancelled. Easy as that."

"Like hell it is."

"Sinclair deemed it so." He brought his feet up on desk. "That smile worries me, Stella."

She flashed that worrisome, mischievous smile over her shoulder at him as she left.

His amusement was beginning to fade to worry.

X

Three hours and a primary evidence collection on a new case later, Mac thumbed the elevator button for the 38th floor. He had two cardboard coffee cups in hand, having picked them up after hearing from Hawkes that Stella was back in the building. He hadn't elaborated further, which meant he'd probably been sworn to secrecy about whatever devilish plan she was enacting. Sworn or threatened.

He stepped into the hallway and cast a cursory glance down to the labs before doing a double-take and stopping still mid-step.

A huge, lusciously green tree stood tall at the bottom of the hallway. In proportion to the labs, it must have rivalled the tree down at the Rockefeller Centre. It truly was a monster.

It was already partially decorated with a string of lights and ornaments. Some ornaments he vaguely recognised from many years back, before Sinclair's reign and his introduction of Christmas decorators.

He took a step forward, only now noticing little Lucy Messer sat on the floor against the wall, a huge pile of different colour card between her outstretched legs. An industrial box of crayons, felts, pencils, glitter, tape, scissors, anything a little kid could dream of was tucked into her side. "Aunt Stella! Another one!" she grinned, blowing a fallen lock of blonde hair from her face.

"Nice job, sweetie! Best yet!" Stella grinned, appearing from behind the behemoth tree and crouching to the floor. She took the disc sized masterpiece of red and gold glitter from the little girl and pulled out a one-hole puncher from her pocket, pierced the picture and threaded string through the hole.

"Er, Stella?"

"Hey Mac!" she smiled, standing up and hanging the new decoration on a branch.

"How did you do all this?"

She stepped to the front of the tree as Mac crossed the hall, handing her a cup. "Thanks! You like the tree?"

"It's beautiful. How did you manage it?"

She smirked. Stella smirked and a surge of worry coursed through Mac again. "I know a guy who knows a guy who owes me a favour and works at Jordy's Christmas Tree Land." She sipped the coffee, "In fact he owns it."

"So you know Jordy..."

"And he owed me a favour."

"Why?"

"A lady never tells, Mac."

"Wait, was it a gift? We can't accept gifts from the public."

"No gift." She was smirking again. "This baby cost me _two whole_ pizzas from Massimo's for the guys in delivery." She was very happy for herself. "And Jordy threw in the lights for a couple of Cokes."

He was smirking now. "Nicely done. And Lucy?"

"Lucy here is my little artiste! And all she cost me was a marshmallow snowman and a good word to Santa Claus."

Lucy looked up at the sound of Santa's name, quickly scanning the hall as if searching for the man in question. When her eyes fell on the couple, she waved a glittery hand and grinned, "Hi Uncle Mac!" before returning to scribbling furiously at her next picture.

"Hey kid," Mac smiled. "Doesn't that constitute as child labour?"

"Not when it means Mommy and Daddy get a little time to themselves..."

"Ah," he nodded. "So what can I do?"

"Well, I would have said grab some crayons and get drawing, but the look that Little Miss Messer flashed Adam when he dared..."

"Lindsay?"

"Oh, her twin. Incredible," she laughed, remembering Adam's step back and wide, fearful eyes before suddenly remembering he'd left something under a microscope. "So, instead, you can help me string popcorn?"

"Put me to work."

He dropped his empty cup into a trash can and stepped around the tree, peeling the suit jacket from his arms and rolling up his shirt sleeves. Many of the decorations dotted around the branches were courtesy of Lucy's hand, but some looked decidedly more familiar. "Is...is that a diatom?"

She followed his gaze, winding a length of already strung popcorn around her neck. "300x zoom," she nodded. "Printed on sparkly card!"

The perfect pattern of the algae particle looked surprisingly in character, but seeing as he usually only saw them when examining the stomach contents of a drowning victim, they'd take some getting used to as a festive decoration.

He fingered the ornament next to it. "3D replica of a snowflake?"

"Pretty, right?" she beamed, gesturing to the different colours dotted around the tree. "Had to let them cool before putting them on the tree. Fire hazard."

"You're very resourceful," he laughed.

She swung a length of popcorn around his neck. "You have no idea."

X

Mac fished the somewhat sad looking angel from the bottom of the box of rescued decorations Stella had found in storage. It had a thin plastic skirt that time and poor storing had split almost completely, covered in a layer of off-white lace. The cherubic face had a mop of yellow hair topped with a gold top-hat and a pair of net wings with a single sequin on each. It was an angel of decades gone by but seemed fitting for the top of their tree.

He gave it a gentle wipe with a cloth and blew some dust from the hair. "Ready?"

Lucy's arms were in the air, her fingers flexing for the topper as Mac hoisted her into his arms.

"We shoulda brought your fairy costume, Luce. You'd have made a beautiful angel for up there..." Stella smiled, her hand stroking across her back.

"No..." she pouted, not much liking the sound of that. She fingered the delicate wings on the angel, her eyes in amazement.

Mac jostled her in his arms, lifting her beneath her arms to the very top of the tree where she slotted the vertical branch under the angel's skirt. Satisfied that she'd actually stay upright and not topple back down, he brought Lucy back down to sit on his hip. "I think you're right, Aunt Stella. I'll keep hold of her, you go grab the costume," he grinned, tickling the little girl in the ribs and eliciting giggles and squirms.

"I don't think she's into it," Stella laughed. "Shall we put the lights on?"

Lucy nodded with a grin.

The few that hadn't come out of the labs and offices to find out why a little girl was giggling so much in the hallway did as Stella flicked the hall lights off. "Count 'em, Lucy!" she smiled.

"3...2...1...!"

Stella connected the sockets on cue, the tree bursting into multicoloured splendour as the string of fairy lights illuminated the halls. The glitter from Lucy's decorations reflected the lights on to the nearby surfaces, the 3D snowflakes were accentuated better and the sparkly diatoms shone brighter – and more Christmassy, Mac noted. It was truly beautiful and made the small crowd of people applaud the efforts of one woman with connections and the little girl with a box of crayons.

Stella stepped back to Mac's side and stroked a hand over his back as he pointed out different decorations to Lucy in his arms.

Xx

His secretary had displayed the card, Sinclair hadn't even seen it yet. He probably wouldn't. He'd just wave a hand over to the multitude of cards from various people when he had guests he wanted to impress, his version of a Facebook friend list.

The true sentiment would be lost on whoever saw the picture that wasn't Sinclair, but that didn't matter. To them, it gave the one finger salute they wouldn't be able to give in reality: the entire crime lab stood around the newly decorated – forbidden – Christmas tree, smiling and happy and ready for whatever else the Chief would throw at them.

_Merry Christmas from the Crime Lab!_


	5. Chapter 5

Well hello folks, long time no see! I was fully expecting to post more over the actual Christmas period, but family happened and then a confidence knock that set me back a bit. But here I am!

This following piece is for Lily Moonlight, who is a delight to know and a joy to read. She requested Mac's black shirt (I too request this!) and a bedside vigil. Hope this works for you :) x

* * *

><p>They say cold temperatures focus the mind, make you sharper.<p>

Crap. All of it.

Of course he was still there.

They'd let their guard down, allowed the uniforms to go grab them all coffee and leave the scene, leave them. They were so far away from any kind of civilisation that it was a wonder the young woman – beaten, raped, killed – had been found at all.

The coroner had taken the body and left the scientists to their pools of blood; the red stains in stark contrasts to the winter white around them. The smell of hairspray floating in the breeze as they secured the frozen footprints, the crunch of the snow underfoot, the whistle of the wind through the trees.

Both Mac and Stella had attempted to stretch their latex gloves over their far warmer leather ones but to no avail, dexterity proving more vital than sensation as their fingers quickly numbed.

When the twig snapped in the wood behind them, Stella joked it was "A doe. A deer. A female deer!" before adding, "Oh! Or Rudolph!" Mac had smirked at her questionable sense of humour again, shaking his head lightly as the camera flashed over the evidence marker. "Mac!"

His head spun to the sharpness of her voice, following her shocked gaze to that of the retreating figure of a male running from the trees and jumping the fence.

Stella had already taken chase before he'd managed to grab the gun and two-way from his belt. "Stella!"

He raced to the fence that she'd cleared in barely a hop as he called for back-up, suspect on location, cop in pursuit. Her gun was drawn, her hollowed front prints already a good 25 – 35? He couldn't tell in the vast whiteness - yards away from him.

His leg was raised to jump the fence too when he watched her pull herself to an almost immediate stop – as much as the ice would allow – her body doubling over as she tried to combat momentum. She slowly turned to him, her face fearful and wide-eyed; the perp she was chasing vanished from sight.

He stopped, his heart thumping heavily as he watched her skin pale before his eyes.

She said something but was too far out for him to hear. He looked around for the man, wondering what would make her stop the chase so abruptly, make her so scared. That was when he saw it; the sign partially covered with snow declaring "DO NOT ENTER. THIN ICE."

His thumping heart dropped. "Take off your coat!" he hollered over to her, fearful it might drag her down should she fall in too. He spun on his toes and ran to the SUV, throwing open the trunk and searching for anything that might help. Spares of this-and-that were tossed into the snow to uncover the length of rope that was now being unravelled in his hands.

When he heard the yelp, his name carrying over the breeze, he didn't bother searching for anything else, he just ran for her. His steps crunching as his feet cleared the fence and gingerly ran over to her.

She'd fallen in, her head bobbing in the icy water, her hands grasping wildly for anything solid. The ice was coming away in her hands as she gasped loudly for air between the mouthfuls of water, her hair stuck to her face as she treaded water. Steam rose as her body heat cooled quickly, too quickly.

He called her name, bringing himself to his knees as he neared what he imagined to be thinner ice, flattening his body over the surface. He shuffled closer to her, tossing the other end of the rope towards her and shouting for her to grab it.

By some kind of miracle, she did. She tugged on the slack, kicking her legs and grunting at the exertion of trying to pull herself from the freezing water. Mac wrapped the rope around his arms, pulled with every possible ounce of strength he could, his eyes closed as he tried to edge himself back to the fence, to the thicker ice.

The rope loosened in his hand. The air went silent. Every breath left his body.

"M-Mac?"

He'd never been happier to hear his own name. He kept pulling, dragging her across the ice to him, Stella was able to crawl some of the way but exhaustion quickly winning over her battle.

He pulled himself to his feet, tugging her up with him and cupping her face. "Are you okay? Are you?"

She managed to nod, but she was shivering under his touch, her lips tinged with blue, her breath in short bursts.

He supported her to the car and helped her climb the fence before sitting her down on the still-open tailgate.

Her arms were wrapped around her chest as her teeth chattered, her breathing still irregular, her muscles still twitching. "We need to get these clothes off, you could catch hypothermia on the way to the ER," he told her, his voice unfamiliar to his ear as he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. He didn't wait for her permission before tugging at the two sides of her shirt, the buttons flying as he peeled it from her skin.

He tossed it behind her into the car and repeated the action with his own shirt, tugging it from his body and threading her arms through the sleeves. He closed it around her and pulled the blanket back over her shoulders, hoping his body warmth might transfer. The fact she was wearing just her bra – and him just his vest – was almost lost on him as he mentally ran through everything he could remember about cold shock.

_Remove wet clothing. _

_Shivering is good sign. Once the patient stops shivering, severe hypothermia has set in. _

_Do not rub or massage for warmth. Could lead to cardiovascular problems. _

_Get to the hospital as soon as possible. _

Tagged on the end of every thought was _please be okay. Please don't die. Please don't die. _

He let his thick fingers unbutton and unzip her sodden jeans, peeling them from her frozen legs proving more difficult than time could allow it to be. He tucked a foil blanket over her legs and gathered her up in his arms, swinging open the passenger door with his fingertips and a kick before sitting her down.

He slammed her door as the sirens of the uniforms finally began to slice the air, dropping the trunk and jumping into the driver's seat. He spun the heating dials, cold air blasting before the engine kicked in and heat bellowed from the small fans. "You're gonna be fine."

He peeled onto the one-track road, the squad car spinning to the embankment as he sped past them, his siren blaring.

Xx

He was asleep when she came too the first time. She noticed him through heavily lidded eyes, the pull too strong to look at him for long. He was in the high-backed chair at the side of her bed, his mouth slack, his legs crossed at his ankles straight out in front of him.

He was watching her when she woke next. His elbow was propped on the arm of the chair, his fingers curled around his mouth as he began to smile. "Hi."

"...Thir..." she managed, swallowing down a dry throat, her eyes closing at the effort of speaking.

He fed a straw between her lips. "It's water."

She welcomed the liquid, it soothing her ragged throat. "Well?" she asked with a cough, shuffling herself up the headboard, wincing at the effort her muscles refuted.

He smiled, sitting down on the edge of the bed, the pale green scrub top creased from the chair. "Good to go. Been waiting for Sleeping Beauty to finally rouse so the Doctor's can sign the discharge papers."

"Sleeping Beauty?"

He laughed, stretching over to the bedside cabinet and passing her a tissue. "Apart from the drool..."

She snatched the tissue with wide eyes and wiped at her mouth, "I'm okay?"

"They want to give you a few more tests, just to check, but you'll be back home tonight."

"Oh thank God." Her head collapsed on to the pillows, her eyes closing before her hand sought his. "Thank you. So much."

"It was nothing."

"It was a pretty big something, Mac. You-you came straight to my aid. Again." She gave him a lopsided smirk as tears began to sparkle in her eyes. "I promise I'm going to work on that."

He laughed, his eyes dropping to his lap.

"Though, I guess you get a little something out of it every time, if you think about it..."

"I do?"

"Well, the whole saving a damsel in distress thing, for one-"

"I don't think you've _ever _been described as a 'damsel', Stella."

"Oh I don't know... _fiddle-de-dee_ and all that," she smirked, batting her eyes in her best Vivienne Leigh impression. "Anyway, stop interrupting. There's the damsel thing, then you got a vacation in Greece that one time..."

"Was that a vacation?"

"There was sun, sea, sand and serial killers, sounds like my kind of vacation...!"

He laughed, "Granted."

"And don't think this time went unnoticed... getting a girl in her underwear in the backseat of your car. It felt like college all over again."

His eyebrows rose to that comment, a faint blush colouring his neck and rising to his cheeks.

"You're blushing."

"You're surprised?"

She grinned, "I'll let you off _this time_...what with it being life-saving measures. But buy a girl a drink first if you're thinking about doing it again..."

He cleared his throat, "Noted."

"So when can I get outta here?"

"As soon as Lindsey gets here with your clothes. I told her to grab our spares from our lockers."

"Your shirt!"

"Necessary casualty," he shrugged, standing up and get his cell phone from the chair. "Anyway, looked better on you than it ever did on me."

She grinned, biting at her lip. "I told you, drink first."


	6. Chapter 6

Who says March can't be Christmassy?

Just a wee thing :) xx

* * *

><p>"Stella!" a small but loud voice announced to the halls of the lab.<p>

Stella spun to the onslaught of pattering feet as Lucy ran towards her, a smiling Lindsay in her wake. "Hello there, Munchkin!" she grinned, swooping up the little girl into her arms and getting her neck hugged. "Oof, you're getting big now. How old are you, again?"

'Three!" she exclaimed happily, holding up four fingers as Stella brushed away a blonde lock.

Stella laughed, folding down one of her fingers as Lindsay caught up. "One, two, three." she counted.

"Yeah, she's not quite mastered that yet..." Lindsay grinned.

"Plenty of time. How come you're here? I thought you had the week off.'

"I do, I just needed to sign some things off. And in the fifteen minutes Lucy here spent with Flack, she learned a new song! Sing your song for Stella, Luce."

With one of Stella's curls wrapped around her finger, the little girl began to grin. "Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg. Mr Freeze cut the cheese and blew us all away...!" She broke into a fit of giggles.

Lindsay's hands sat on her hips, "I'm gonna kill him."

"Hey, just be thankful it wasn't the one about the North Pole and Lapland."


	7. Chapter 7

Well, it's that time of year again! My excitement has been... I would say 'maturing', but it's the exact opposite really! Anyway, very excited since August, and now it's only 38 days!

If anyone has any Christmassy prompts or scenes they'd like to see, please feel free to let me know either during a review (if you're so kind to review) or via PM and I'll work on getting a few written up over the coming weeks. Thanks all!

Enjoy! x

* * *

><p>"Mac!" Stella called down the corridor, seeing him leave the Trace lab as she turned the corner. "Hey, Hawkes found some pollen on Vikram's shirt that puts him in Derby's garden before he died." She fell into step with him, tapping the manila file in her hand that held the analysis report.<p>

He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Good job, I'll have Flack go pick him up again."

"I can't wait to see that smug bas-"

"-Aunt Stella! Uncle Mac!"

They both turned to the really quite loud holler, smiles already growing before they had even set sights on Miss Lucy Messer. "Hey Kiddo!" Stella grinned, reaching up to squeeze her knee from where she perched on Danny's shoulders. "My you've grown tall..."

Lucy laughed, one hand firmly gripped around Danny's forehead.

"What brings you here?" Mac asked, watching as Lindsay caught up from down the hall.

"My fault," Lindsay began, zipping up her purse and fixing the strap over her shoulder. "I left the tickets here."

"Tickets?"

"We're going to go see Santa!" Lucy excitedly announced, practically bouncing on Danny's shoulders and causing a poorly hidden grimace from the Daddy.

"You are?" Stella grinned, the glee on the little girl's face was contagious.

Lindsay laughed at her daughter, her hand falling to her bag. "She would never forgive if I hadn't got the tick-"

"Oh! Aunt Stella! Look!" She was definitely on the route to hyper as she held out a glittery twig of mistletoe. "You and Uncle Mac have to kiss now."

"Is that so?" Mac enquired, a smile tilting his lips. He wasn't sure who was more shocked: Stella or Lindsay.

"Mmhmm. Thems rules."

"_They are the_ rules," Lindsay corrected.

Stella laughed, "Well if 'thems rules'..." She turned back to Mac, placed her hand on his shoulder and leant to leave a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Nooo," Lucy moaned, "You have to kiss on the lips."

"No, Luce-"

"Daddy said you have to kiss on the lips under 'missledoe'."

"That was just for Mommy and Daddy-" Lindsay tried to explain, her cheeks reddening as Danny tried to hide his smirk from his daughter, and hide himself from his wife's scathing look.

"But Uncle Flack and Aunty Jess kissed on the lips!"

"Yes...but... That-that-"

"Should we just put her out of her misery?" Stella laughed, turning to Mac who was enjoying the exasperated look on Lindsay's face and the familiar defiance on Lucy's that was most definitely inherited.

She returned her hand to Mac's shoulder and moved the other to his cheek as, right there in the corridor, she fastened her lips to his. It was only quick, a chaste peck as his hand fell to her waist.

She pulled back, asking Lucy, "That okay?"

"See Mommy!"

Lindsay rolled her eyes, a grin on her lips as she mouthed an apology to Stella and Mac. She knew teaching Lucy to speak would cause problems... "Come on, lets go see Santa..."

Mac and Stella laughed as they watched the family head back to the elevators. "If that's Lucy at five, imagine her at fifteen..."

"I'm looking forward to it," Mac laughed, his hand falling to the small of Stella's back.

She watched as the elevator doors closed, Lindsay swatting Danny's arm as Lucy laughed from her tall perch, before her parents shared a kiss. Stella turned her head to Mac, asking quietly, "Do you think they knew?"

"I think our secret's safe a little longer," he replied, his hand pressing gently into her back.

She fought her smile, turning on her heel and passing him the manila file. It was the perfect disguise for their fingers to linger on each other's before she pulled back and slipped away, failing with her battle against a smile.

Xx

Lindsay pressed the button for the elevator as Danny squeezed his daughter's knee. "Luce, you did me proud back there."

"...What did you do?" Lindsay accused.

"I just...gave a nudge..." he said, ducking into the cubicle to allow for the extra height attached to his shoulders.

"I made Aunt Stella and Uncle Mac kiss!"

Lindsay thumbed for the ground floor, turning back to swat Danny's arm, "_You _orchestrated that?"

"I didn't orchestrate, I nudged!"

"Danny!"

He was smirking; that smirk that made his eyes twinkle and her heart swell. She gestured up to where Lucy was holding out the glittering twig of mistletoe again. He hooked a finger under Lindsay's chin and tilted her lips up to his. "On the lips, right Luce?"

"When do see Santa?" suddenly very uninterested in all the kissing going on.


	8. Chapter 8

35 days!

This is for SMACkedHuddy, who requested more tree decorating. I hope this works for you!

Anyone else got any prompts/requests? I have very long commutes to and from work ;)

* * *

><p>"That's definitely a real one," she gestured out the window to the apartment across the courtyard. Her bare feet were crossed at the ankle and propped up on the window-ledge, her toes resting against the glass.<p>

"Where?" Mac asked, the words muffled through the screwdriver clasped between his teeth. He snapped the plug casing closed, looking over to her as he lined up the small screws into the holes.

"Three up, two across."

He craned his neck to see over her shoulder to where she pointed with her toe. "Fake. Watched him pull it out of a box a few days ago."

"Really? Where was I?" She twisted in her seat to look at him. He was sat on the bed, a worn, grey retro Chicago Bears tee over dark blue jogging bottoms, the plug leading from his hand to the string of lights around their tree. She wished she had a camera.

He followed the lead and slotted the plug into the socket, "With Flack on the Harvon case." Flicking the switch, he was thankful that the room was suddenly bathed in multicoloured lights, emanating from every branch of their also-from-a-box tree. "Just needed a new fuse. Good?"

"Perfect," she smiled, tossing more popcorn into her mouth. "I'm almost done here."

"Eating or stringing?" he smirked, padding across the room. He placed a kiss in her hair, his hand gliding across her shoulders as the other stole a kernal from the bowl. The decoration was definitely heavier on the string-to-popcorn ratio.

She smirked, "Judging by the nearly empty bowl I'd say both."

"Want me to pop another bag?"

"Nah," she shifted in her seat, her smirk growing into a grin and she draped her long legs over his.

He smoothed his hands up her legs, "This isn't going to get the apartment decorated..."

"Nope." She settled back into the chair, her head lolling to the back and her eyes focussing on the tree. Their tree. She liked that. She kinda liked that it only had the lights too; a blank slate. Their canvas to draw future Christmasses on, to collect decorations along the way. A 2012 bauble, hopefully a 2013... Who knew.

Mac reached behind them to the bed, pulling back a gaudily decorated cardboard box. "Is it even worth putting these on the tree?"

She grabbed a foil-covered chocolate reindeer, "Um, no."

"Thought not."


	9. Chapter 9

32 Days!

This is written with Lily Moonlight's prompt in mind (said prompt at the end!). She allowed me angst, which was maybe a bad idea - I loves me the angst! Hope this is okay, hun! I'm afraid I didn't include the shirt, but I promise next time :)

Anyone got any prompts?

* * *

><p>Death was a big part of the job. Obviously. Investigating death, sometimes causing death, all too often grieving death.<p>

It felt like they were grieving more and more lately.

_She _felt like she was grieving more and more lately.

She wrapped her arms tighter around her chest, her elbows digging into her knees. The bare stone walls did little to heat the small hospital chapel, nor her chilled body. She wasn't sure she'd ever feel warmth again. December in New York City and she had spent the day in an empty tenement block ready for demolition, nursing her friend until EMT arrived.

Maybe she could have done more. No, she _should _have done more. Stemmed the blood, kept him talking, arrested the rotten scum bastard who shot at them.

_He _should be the one in surgery, not Flack. _He _should be the one fighting for his life, needles in his skin, tubes up his nose. _He _should be the one who had died in her arms.

She could still hear the whisper of his last breath as the sirens finally screamed into the garage. She touched his face, screamed his name, pleaded for him to wake up, _Godamnit _just wake up.

He didn't.

She had felt someone pull her back, hands grabbing her arms and dragging her to her feet. She scratched at her restraints, unsure whether she was begging to be let go or for Flack to wake up. _Please! Please!_

The creak of the bench woke her from her reverie as someone sat next to her.

She straightened up, wiping at the tears she hadn't realised she'd shed. She heaved a deep, rattled breath and smiled weakly as a thanks for the coffee Mac held out for her. She entwined her fingers around the warm cardboard cup, the logo for the cafe across the street emblazoned on the side; he obviously wasn't tempted by whatever that was in the Nurse's lounge either.

She sipped, feeling the liquid sear a path down her throat and into her stomach; the warmth radiating around her body. Her eyes found the alter again, the nativity scene beneath the cross. She suddenly remembered it was Christmas Eve, maybe even Christmas Day now; she daren't look at her watch lest she calculate how long he had been in there.

The alter was flanked either side by paintings of Saint Michael and Saint Luke; the latter the Patron Saint of surgeons, the former the Patron Saint of Police Officers. The sight of their close quarters brought a humourless quirk to her lips. "He died in my arms."

He swung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side; his fingers pressing into her skin as she sobbed. Tears slid down her cheeks as she replayed the day again. The calls to freeze, to drop the weapon, to get on the ground. The burst of light from the muzzle, the deafening reverberation of sound. The silhouette dropping to the floor. The stillness, the silence, the shock.

"I saw him die."

He held her tighter. Her hand gripped at his other wrist, a fistful of his shirt bunched between her fingers as the sobs continued.

"They got Maxims," he finally uttered. Her body had stopped shaking, her grip looser against his skin. "He was hiding out in a bar a few blocks over. He's over at the 1-5 now, in the cells."

She nodded, the relief she felt at the news barely registering.

"Did you get hold of his sister? Samantha?"

"Lindsay's bringing her over now."

She nodded again, pulling away from his body. She raked a hand over her face, wiping away the tear tracks from her cheeks and under her chin. Part of her was annoyed to have cried like that in front of Mac; another part was glad to have not done it when alone, to have had someone there to hold her.

"I should be there when she arrives."

"The Doctor can fill her in."

"She shouldn't have to hear from a Doctor that her brother is dead," she stood up, wiping under eyes again and fixing her shirt. The actions were numb, almost involuntary.

"He's not going to say that."

She turned to him as he stood, "What?"

He stepped closer to her, "Stella, Don made it through surgery. The next twenty-four hours are critical, but it looks like he could be okay."

"He..."

"He's alive."

She covered her mouth, her chin wavering under her touch as tears filled her eyes again. "He's alive?"

He nodded and she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her tightly as she carefully held the coffee cup behind his back. "You couldn't tell me that sooner?" she laughed.

"They're moving him to the Critical Care Ward now, if you want to see him...?"

She pulled away and turned on her heel, the click-clacking of her shoes echoing around the chapel as she practically ran into the corridor.

Mac followed behind, turning back to the alter with the door in his hand. He looked at the Saints, the cross, the small nativity scene and silently gave thanks.

* * *

><p><em>Prompt - 'Christmas Miracle'. <em>


	10. Chapter 10

__28 days!

This was written thanks to a prompt from the ever-so sweet Smuffly. Hope you like it! :) x

* * *

><p><em>Technically<em>, he hadn't gone over budget. Adam had spent exactly ten dollars of the ten dollar Secret Santa budget.

Though _technically_ that was with a discount coupon and a donation from Mac (He offered, he certainly wasn't asked). The extra meant he could go all-out and get the 'luxurious suedette effect' for the cover.

It was surprisingly easy to collect all of the photographs. Once he started asking - and others heard of his project - he had had envelopes full of pictures being covertly passed to him in the locker room or in the middle of manila 'case' files.

He had had to make a few phone calls for the more tricky ones; her graduation photographs from college and the Academy, a couple from her time with Narcotics in Brooklyn, even a few bonus ones from nights out thanks to one of the girls there.

It felt weird to him sometimes, chronicling her life for her. She'd lost so much in that fire - her life thus far except for what she had in her locker at work - he'd just wanted to give her something back; Some memories for her to look back on.

She'd had a tough year - after tough year, after tough year, it seemed - and as hard as she fought, he could see that she'd lost something; A sparkle in her eyes, a spring in her step, a bubble in her laugh. She could disappear to a far off place when she thought no one was looking, a place that seemed to worry her. She would snap out of it as soon as someone spoke to her, or broke her line of sight, and she'd have an instant smile for them; A facade.

He was so excited when he had finished it. He had to say, he was pretty proud of it. He'd scanned nearly a hundred photographs into his computer (all on his own time, of course) and then sorted and arranged them across the pages using the website. The hardest part was probably the waiting for it to arrive. Finally, _finally, _it came and, yes, had done a pretty damn good job.

He wrapped it as best he could and wrote the tag out, taping it to the top corner: 'To Stella, Merry Christmas, love Santa x'

He smuggled it into his lab and tucked it into the cupboard below the desk, busying himself with work at the computer that was across from her office. He could see her working – and floating to worrisome daydreams – his heart was pounding as he tried to gauge when best to drop the gift on her desk. He didn't really want to be there when she opened it. Well, he didn't really want to be there if she opened it and hated it, found it to be a vast intrusion into her personal life and wanted to hit something...

Mac took her away, eventually, having seen Adam's pained expressions and second-guessed actions for long enough. Adam watched as he led her down the hall to his office with a hand to the small of her bank and a hidden head tilt to him that _now_ was the time to strike.

The simple act of sliding the photo album from the shelf beneath his desk suddenly seemed damn near impossible. His hands had seemingly developed an instant sheen of sweat and around two tons of lead, evident by the times – more than one - that his grip slid off the door handle and whacked into the desk. A few mumbled swears, a calming breath and finally he had the infernal thing in his hand and was skittering across the corridor.

He dropped the parcel onto her desk, knocking over a pen holder and sending papers fluttering in all directions. He dropped to his knees, frantically trying to pick them up, put them back and run back to his lab just as Stella and Mac were turning the corner.

Mac had to comically spin Stella around, lest she see the more than suspicious mad dash of a certain lab tech from her office. Adam couldnt begin to imagine what excuse Mac had given for the impromptu spin as he ran back across the hall, only realising the glass door was shut at the last possible second.

He sat down in his chair and took a breath, wiping his sweating hands over his jeans before raking them through his hair. He had so much more admiration for James Bond...

A leftover smirk was still on her lips from whatever Mac had said to her, but it quickly dissolved to confusion then amusement as she locked eyes with a staring Adam. He quickly flung his hands in the direction of anything work-related, but sent a beaker crashing to the floor instead.

He was crouched low, his eyes and forehead only visible from above the work surface, as he watched her sit behind her desk.

He couldn't believe it.

He thumped his head onto the desk - repeatedly - a groan of frustration leaving his lips as he slid to sit on the floor, his back to the cupboard. In his haste to pick up the papers he had dropped, it seemed he had reassembled them right on top of the gift and pretty much covering it entirely.

More hours of torture until she found the blessed thing!

He waited.

And he waited.

And he _freaking _waited.

She typed at her computer, she pulled a reference book from a shelf, she looked out of the window.

She typed some more, she made a call, she signed off a casefile.

_Torture!_

Finally, blessedly, she started to look around her desk for a something - probably something he'd tossed on the floor nearly an hour before.

He watched from his vantage point across the corridor as she flicked up papers and books and _boom, _she stilled.

Her eyes fell onto the tag and her eyebrows rose in confusion, realisation, and intrigue.

She lifted it over onto her blotter, tortuously slowly sliding a nail beneath the fold of bright red paper with cartoon Santas and Rudolphs.

Adam watched with baited breath as she spread tattered remains of wrapping paper to the side, and stroked a hand over the soft cover on its way to the corner.

He wasn't breathing. He definitely wasn't breathing.

She flipped onto the first page and covered her mouth with her hand.

She was crying. _Oh shit, in a good way or a bad way? Oh shit. _

She flicked through some other pages and a smile crept across her lips, and then a laugh as she turned another. Her eyes scanned the offices, falling onto Adam as he stood like a deer caught in emerald green, almond-shaped headlights.

The way his pale face stared at her – etched with trepidation and almost fear - told her everything she needed to know. "_Thank you,_" she whispered, another tear slipping from her cheek.

He breathed.

He managed to nod, a smile forming as he finally inhaled and relief flooded his entire body.

She sat back in the chair, hefting the book onto her knee as she flicked onto a photograph of the team, of her friends. Mac, Lindsay, Danny, Flack, Sheldon, Sid, Adam and herself; arm in arm around the Christmas tree from the year before.

Her team, her friends, her family.

Maybe she wasn't as alone in it all as she thought…


	11. Chapter 11

17days!

This is for the 'guest' reviewer who requested 'Angst in Snow' haha Fab prompt! Hope this works for you :)

* * *

><p>He slammed on the breaks, the tires skidding before finally gaining traction.<p>

The car had barely stopped before he was out and running, his feet crunching across the freshly fallen snow and heading for the old barn.

He had driven through one hell of a snow storm to get to her location, dispatch providing the coordinates so his sat-nav could blindly direct him to her scene. He felt a modicum of relief to see the structure finally loom into the not-so-far distance. The old rusty brown colour of the barn poked through the falling snow, the veracity of which had calmed dramatically, but still not enough for his liking.

He hadn't heard from her since her broken phone call. The signal had proven temperamental this far out in 'the sticks' - as she had joked before heading to the scene - but the tone of her voice told him everything the call couldn't.

_"Mac, he's... and armed...back up... I don't... take him... my own."_

He was already en route when he remembered to call dispatch for backup.

Any footprints had been covered over, but he couldn't decide whether it was a good thing or bad that he could make out some directional blood drops near the entrance that had been shielded from the storm.

He silently backed into the wall of the barn, his gun drawn and safety off.

It was silent.

Then a swan honked in a nearby lake.

Then a flurry of snow fell from a branch with a whoosh.

Then, suddenly, Stella's voice travelled as she called "Police! Drop your-!"

Then a gunshot.

His breath hitched in his throat as he immediately ran towards the origin of the sound, its echo travelling across the surrounding fields.

He quickly circled the barn and stopped before the high velocity blood splatter colouring the pure snow. He wanted to drop to his knees, as if touching it would tell him if it was Stella who was shot, bleeding, dead.

"Mac..."

His head snapped up, turning the corner before he even knew his feet were moving, the blood smudging beneath his boots.

"I knew you were there..." she gave a half-smile, the gun limp in her hand. She looked over to the body of Marcus Masterston, lying on his back, a bloody hole in his chest.

Mac stared at her as he crossed to the body. Years in the job told him Masterson was dead just from looking at him, and trust in Stella's aim told him he definitely was if that was her intention, but he was more concerned with getting the pistol out of his hand and attending to the wound to her bicep.

He bent over the body, pocketing the gun and checking for a pulse; nothing.

Satisfied, Mac began dragging the tie from around his neck as he walked back over to her, wrapping it around her arm above the bullet graze and creating a tourniquet.

"Mac..."

He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers, the pressure from his kiss making her take a step backwards to keep her footing. She melted into his embrace, the pulsating pain from her arm all but forgotten.

An oncoming siren pulled him away, back-up finally arriving. He encircled her in his arms. "Are you okay?"

"I am now," she breathed, laying her head on his shoulder. "He was hiding out behind the stables; I didn't know he was there until he shot at me."

"EMT's on the way," his eyes flicked to the blood soaked fray in her sweater. It didn't look deep, but the sight of any blood oozing from her body was too much.

He _should_ take her gun away, he _should_ question her about exactly what happened, he _should_ take her to a hospital, but he just needed to hold her. He just needed to smell that coconut shampoo that somehow clung to his bedroom; he needed to feel her silken skin beneath his touch and he especially needed to hear her voice.

"...For a minute there..." she whispered, barely audibly as their names were called by Danny and Flack, their cars skidding across the snow.

He breathed, "...For a minute there..."


	12. Chapter 12

364 days til Christmas! ;)

Computer complications and pre-Christmas appointments has delayed this update, many apologies! Hope you all enjoyed the holidays! This is written courtesy of a prompt from Lily Moonlight - Hope you like! x

* * *

><p>"Uncle Mac, I'm hungry."<p>

He looked down to the hazel-haired head skipping next to him. He had not one idea where she kept all that food, "Well I'm not surprised. It has been almost an hour since you last ate..."

She gave a giggle, flashing him Lindsay's smile before focussing back on her skips across the departnent store floor.

"The sooner we get this gift for Aunt Stella, the sooner we can go home for dinner, okay?" He thought she nodded, but he couldn't really tell with how much she was and down. "What do you think she'll want for Christmas?"

She slowed to a walk with her eyes scanning the shelves and aisles, suddenly she broke into a run, dragging Mac hand first. "Aunt Stella would love this!"

He wasn't so sure. "_Aunt Stella _would love a Barbie Dream Convertable with real spinning wheels, real flashing headlights and a selection of three songs to play from the stereo including Britney Spears, Taylor Swift and One Direction...?"

She nodded emphatically, her little fingers spinning the wheels and pressing the sample button, a pop song he didn't know playing from a tiny, tinny speaker.

"How about we come back to it if we find nothing else, Luce? Let's keep looking." He grabbed her hand and extracted her from the neon pink box. She gave a moan but fell into step with him as they quickly left the toy aisle.

"What about that sweater?" he pointed to a mannequin, garnering a scrunched up face in reply. "No?"

"Grandma Monroe knots me a sweater-"

"-knits-"

"-every Christmas and _bleurgh." _She scrunched her face again, shaking her head.

"Okay then..." he laughed.

"Ooo what about a sparkly?" she asked, again pulling Mac across the building. She stopped outside a display case of necklaces, bracelets and rings. "I like that one," She announced, her face pressed into the glass and free hand pointing to a pendant towards the back of the unit.

It was three thin, silver strands curved into a slight 'S' shape in varying lengths, the longest in the middle. The base of the outside strands had a small diamond pressed into the silver, while the middle one had an emerald that reminded him of the colour of her eyes. "You have very good taste in jewelry, Lucy Messer."

She smiled up at him as he signalled for the sales assistant and asked to see the necklace. Lifting Lucy to sit on top of the unit, he took the black velvet from thr young girl's hand. "What do you think?"

"Aunt Stella will love that, Uncle Mac."

"Yeah?"

Lucy nodded, the sales girl grinning at the little girl a insistence (and the oncoming comission).

"I'll take it," Mac smiled, passing it back to the girl. He reached into his inside poscket for his wallet, only for his actions to be momentarily halted by Lucy's question.

"Uncle Mac? How come you're buying Aunt Stella's present? Why didn't she just ask Santa in her letter?"

He cleared his throat, catching a glimpse of the sales girl suddenly staring at him with wide eyes. "Well, Aunt Stella and I decided that Santa would be so busy making all the toys for all the children in the world, that we'd buy eachother gifts and let him focus on making more toys for the children." _Did she buy it? Please say she bought it. _

She looked at him inquisitively, the image of her father looking over evidence and trying to make sense of the puzzle. "...So does that mean I get more presents on Christmas morning?"

His mouth tilted into a smirk, "I suppose it does, yes. You'll have to see." He smiled at the sales girl who was trying hard to not burst out laughing. He handed her his credit car as she held up a pot of Candy Canes from the other side of the counter. She quirked an eyebrow to Mac, silently asking if she could offer one to Lucy. He nodded, if it stopped her asking questions like that he'd give her the lot!


	13. Chapter 13

179 days! Officially less than 6months to go ;)

* * *

><p>He liked the dichotomy of the city.<p>

The infectious, frenetic energy of the streets below; the millions of people, millions of vehicles, millions of noises.

Then; the serenity of being 42 storeys above. The stillness amongst the towers and skyscrapers, the birds – both animal and mechanical – flying around, the silence broken occasionally by the sirens and car horns floating on the winds.

Mac watched the moonlight dance across the Hudson and East Rivers, the December chill barely acknowledgeable as he huddled beneath the balcony heaters. He was hidden from view, having stepped away from the glass doors to where the railings extended to the concrete wall.

The Mayor's Annual Christmas Ball was in full swing behind him. Or, as Stella had taken to calling it, 'The Mayor's Annual C4 Ball'; Christmas, Charity, Campaign and Champagne. And oh were there explosions if you didn't attend.

Mac had managed to meander his way through the crowd, shaking the hands, telling the tales, extolling the virtues of their admirable and gracious host; finally making it to the other side of the room and out to the balcony before he said something he shouldn't have. Politics just really weren't his thing, but the Mayor had seen him and had taken a photograph with him, so his job was done. He just had to ride it out now (and hope for an emergency call out from the team).

A chilled breeze whipped around him, a bird allowing itself to be carried on the breeze. It swooped down around him, its trajectory aiming for the East River and taking the scenic route as it dipped and swirled with the wind, soaring past the buildings.

Mac sipped at the whisky in his hand; trying to make the drink last so he didn't need to venture back into the party for another. It warmed him from within, the sensation spreading as he heaved a heavy sigh and looked out to his city.

"There you are!" A voice announced, annoyance and amusement mixing in the tone. "A little heads up would have been nice."

He looked over his shoulder with a smirk tilting his lips. Stella's hands were on her hips, before she quickly stepped behind him and tucked herself away in the far corner.

"I have been dodging the guy from the British Consulate all night - He introduced himself as 'Naughty Nigel', Mac. Whilst underneath the mistletoe." She gave him a pointed stare. "He said he liked my _'um...dress'_…" the way her eyes fell to her neckline told Mac exactly what Naughty Nigel had liked about the dress...

He turned so his back leant against the railing, trying in vain to hide the grin that was forming.

"I managed to get away, but he said I 'owed' him a Christmas kiss. I swear to God, if I wasn't on my best behaviour tonight he would have had a 'Special Relationship' with my foot..." She crossed her arms around her chest, before a curl escaped its pin and bounced around her face. An arm came swinging out as she pointed at him again, "And he keeps calling me Susan!"

Mac had to laugh at that, the grin he had been fighting spreading in full force.

The arm folded back over her chest, her shoulders hunching as the thin silk fabric of her dress provided little warmth against the winter wind.

Mac switched his drink between his hands as he shrugged himself out of his blazer jacket, helping Stella to thread her arms through the sleeves. "Thanks," she smiled, her annoyance dissipating as she enveloped herself in his warmth. "A girl could get used to this sight, y'know..." She gestured over to him, her fingers barely visible under the long sleeves.

He was leaning against the railing on one elbow with the whisky in hand, his other hand buried in his trouser pocket. His top shirt button was open and bowtie loose on either side of the collar; the tuxedo finished exquisitely by the cummerbund and shiny black patent shoes. As happy as she was at the polished and perfect look at the beginning of the evening, the ruffled James Bond look he was sporting now was much more appealing...

He gave a chuckle, but a blush coloured his cheeks before he could think of a suitable retort.

Her eyes were sparkling with mischief again as she gave him an appreciative look up and down, securing the sight to her memory as he sipped at the whisky.

She gave a jump when she heard the door open, the music get louder and a new voice ask the night air, "Susan?"

Her eyes grew wide in fear and annoyance that 'Naughty Nigel' had found her again, but they were positively bulging when she suddenly saw Mac step forwards and fastened his lips to hers.

His lips. On hers.

She was swiftly encircled in his arms, her fingers spreading across his back as her mind finally caught up with the fact that she was kissing him back as fiercely as he was her. He was pulling her into him, keeping her flush against his body as his hand gently cupped her cheek.

The sound of Nigel's 'Harrumph' barely registered to her ears, nor did the sound of the door closing again behind him.

Mac pulled away, keeping her as close to him as possible.

She cleared her throat, her lips tingling, "What, er, what happened to keeping us low-key?"

"We still are," he said, his voice hoarse and devastatingly sexy.

"Mac, making out at the Mayor's Christmas Ball is hardly low-key."

He smirked and she felt her stomach flip, "I kissed someone called Susan… I don't about you…"

She laughed, her lips pursed, "So you effectively just cheated on me?"

He gave a chuckle as his hand on her cheek pulled her back into him. "Yeah, with you."

"We'll discuss how messed up that is later," she smirked, touching her lips to his again.


End file.
